An Idea I had
by TennisRacketeer
Summary: Just a snippet of a story idea I had. Please give me feedback. I've no idea what I'm doing.


Hello! I've no I've no idea what I'm doing. just thought I'd post this, at some point. Again, I've no idea what I'm doing, so please tell me what I'm doing wrong. Thanks!

 **Thunderhead**

Thunderhead is known for being an especially stunt-filled race. The Dogbowl, twists, and lack of straight lines contribute to that, but the main culprit of this reputation is the way drivers go through it. They do all the spins, flips, and whatever else they can, without crashing. It's the thrill of it, mostly. Racing is an exhilarating thing, and the novelty of drifting through an upside-down course while smashing into / dodging other racers is certainly an extra attraction.

I'm only here because it's on the "Road To Grand Pre" qualifying race list. My motivation for doing the prerequisite work is my enjoyment of racing. The money is certainly an awesome bonus, (because food is important), but my original reason for trying to make racing a career was the thrill I got from it. I'm not in it for revenge, or greed, or anything like that. I just enjoy doing it.

I'm not thinking much about that at the moment. More so just that the crackers they give out here are the best I've ever eaten. Plastic-wrapped gold, I say. Anyway, the officials are calling all drivers to their cars, and I'm getting my helmet on. It's just a standard black one I grabbed from a racing accessories shop when I started. The standards on dress aren't limiting in the slightest, as to let racers show off the most ostentatious designs possible. I just wear a red sweater I found at some convenience store, some black jeans, and black boots I got at a Goodwill. The only reason they're color coded at all, is because the publicity on my first race centered around the fact that I seemingly didn't care. They made wild, sweeping statements about how important style is to modern racing. I didn't care for bad press, hence, color-coding.

I close my locker that looks ripped straight from an elementary school, and stand. I turn left, to proceed through the door to the track, when I notice one Speed Racer. He's tapping his foot on the plastic-covered floor, lost in thought. By the nearly imperceptible smile upon his face, it's a rather happy one. **_"All drivers to your cars, please. All drivers to your cars, please."_** It's getting to be the final call, and I'd really not like to see Speed disqualified for not attending. I tap his shoulder. "Hey, it's almost go-time." He startles a bit at my touch. "Oh, yeah. Thanks," he replies curtly, before quickly grabbing his helmet, slamming his locker closed, and heading for the door. A small slip of paper falls from his grasp, however. I snatch it up, and jog over to the door.

The scene never gets old. Almost all of the racers have some sort of gimmick. The Snake-Oiler guys are an incredible example of this. It's kinda impressive, if in a mildly ironic way. I'm looking for Racer, though. I spot him near the back, just lumbering into his car. The Mach 6 is my favorite design of the ones here. It's plain in color, but still unique with it's older fashion curves, and simple air-intakes.

I run to get to him, and it takes a second to do so. The other racers are giving me funny looks, including Speed. As I finally reach him, I hold up the paper. "You dropped it!" I yell over to him. His expression changes from one of annoyance, to one of immense relief. "Oh! Thank You! I just knew I dropped it somewhere!" He leans out of his cockpit a bit, and stretches out his arm to me. I slip the paper to his yellow-gloved hands, and sprint over to my car.

It's a few places in front of his, and looks out of place here. It's missing the more common large air scoops, in favor of little ones spread throughout, which can open and close, depending on the part of the car receiving most air-pressure. I modeled it after an old Ford design. The GT, I think it was called. It's much lower to the ground than most other cars, too. Inside, it's got the beefiest engine I could get my hands on. The extremely elusive, highly debated, Bernoulli Oxinator. It was the result of all my favors, _ever_ , being cashed in with my friend at the Bernoulli Center. He's friggin awesome. Anyway, it's debated for a very specific reason: It requires copious amounts of oxygen to function. Now, in the middle of a race, this won't be an issue, as you're getting more than enough through your intakes. The real problem is starting it up. At a standstill, it's not always going to get the air it needs. I fix this by supplying a trickle of nitrous into the main combustion chamber at the beginning of a race. I trust the engine to handle it. Bernoulli makes quality products.

Alright. The race is starting, and I'm getting the standard pre-race excitement. I'm smiling, looking at my cockpit. You've got the standard wheel, with noticeably few buttons on it. There's nothing there for power distribution, aerodynamics, or anything besides the rear cam, Jumpjacks, and gear changing. As the other cars are extremely loud, I use noise cancellation integrated into my helmet, that adjusts insulation levels depending upon the amount of noise it hears. And so, I have a series of four lights just behind, and above my wheel in the cockpit. Three red, and one green, from left to right. The red ones light when I'm about to need to change, and the green when I need to. My Jumpjack buttons are divided into the eight cardinal, and inter-cardinal directions, as well as one in the center for activating all at once. The cardinal ones activate only that section, and inter-cardinal is for the individual ones.

"Go!" There's a millisecond of hesitation, before everyone slams their foot to the floor. A loud screeching emanates from the track, as dozens of tires struggle to find a modicum of traction.

And suddenly, we're off.

The starts of races are exponentially more intense by the second. It's a combination of the sudden realization of many racers that, "Oh wow! There are lots of people around me," and "Oh god, they're also moving around, trying to hit me."

It's just as exhilarating every time. As people start to look around, and try more and more frantically to escape the crowd, one has laser focus on some point ahead on the track. Speed isn't perturbed at all, it seems. He has the focus of experience, of not being bothered by the crowd.

It's fun to just coast and look at the rear-cam all day, but I've got a race to win. I look up in time to catch movement in my peripheral vision. Expecting it, I hit the northern button on my Jumpjacks, jerking the hood skyward. The car the was about to perform a PIT maneuver on me sails left, and into an unexpecting driver's side. I accelerate past them, and the fray of vehicular combat that normally occurs at the beginning of races. I see Speed ahead of me, and make an effort to catch up with him.

Speed Racer lives up to the name, as he deftly evades knock-out attempts, and stays ahead of the Snake-Oiler leader. The snake guy's pretty good, if ridiculously arrogant. He makes a bold push towards Speed, but falls into a pretty obvious trap, when Speed slows, and jumps over him. Snake guy doesn't expect it, and is disoriented enough to lose control. That's about the best outcome one could hope for, when performing that move, and Speed looks mildly impressed that it turned out that way. It's a fleeting feeling though, as Snake guy is still spinning out in the middle of the track. Speed performs an impressively well-timed spin of his own, to get past him.

I, however, don't have the luxury of doing so, as he's still exploding when I get to him. I decide to just jump over it, but spin out beforehand, turning it into a nice little twirl. I land, and immediately see Speed gunning it down the Dogbowl. "I've gotta get a piece of this," I say to myself.

The Dogbowl is a favourite among fans, which makes racers all the more competitive in how thrilling they can make their performance. Speed does a fantastic job of this, getting so close to the edge each time he causes sparks to fly.

I'm betting on something a bit ridiculous, though.

I tap the GT into top gear, then gun it into the first peak. Once I reach the top, I activate the left side Jumpjacks, sending me spinning, and keeping my momentum, all the way to the next peak on the same side of the Bowl. I land with some trouble keeping steady, but I drift through the next peak with a smile on my face. I half expected that move to send my careening into the edge of the track, and I'm honestly impressed with myself that I made that work.

It gets a standing ovation in the crowd, with a few more flashbulbs going off than usual.

Yeah, I soak it in a little bit.

I'm distracted from my ego-stroking moment when I see that Speed has surpassed me by quite a bit more than before. I look at the rear-cam, and see that I've got a sizable distance between me, and everyone else. _'Let's make that gap bigger, shall we?'_ I start concentrating more upon the road before me. It's starting to seem like a roller coaster at some point, and then I realize that it's just turned into "How many twists can we put into a racetrack?"

I have to hold off a bit more now, as the road gets thinner, and the turns tighter. My palms are getting slick on the wheel now, and I have to grip it tighter to compensate. The tires are deteriorating, and gripping to the track less firmly. I'm drifting on an upside-down track, looking dead ahead. Tunnel vision is my default filter now, as I zip by screaming onlookers. This is what racing is all about, right here.

It's getting close now. Speed appears equally focused on the race, as I slowly catch up with him. I afford myself a longer moment to look at him. He's distracted by something. Eyes less sharp. Hmm. Let's fix that, shall we? I re-activate the nitrous drip that I use for idle, to give the engine a little roar. I switch it back off, and look over at him again. He's looking at me with a challenging glint in his eyes. "Let's do this!" I slam the accelerator down, and push, ever so slightly, closer to Speed.

I can see the finishing line now. It's gonna be close! But Speed slows down, seemingly intentionally. What? I look over at the scoreboard, and realize. The current track record is held by his brother, Rex Racer. Ah. Rex is pretty notorious around here, so I've heard enough about him to understand. I slow down with Speed, and start coasting to the finish.

You know what? Fuck it. He's having enough trouble at the moment, and top two is enough for a qualification. I slow down a small bit more. Just enough to look accidental, but not enough to look like I'm publicly pitying the guy. Drivers have a reputation to uphold, goddamnit!

Speed has tears on his face when he comes to a stop, but he's smiling too. I have a similar smile on my face when I finish, a millisecond later. It all comes back to me, in that moment. The thrill of it all is just overwhelming, and I just sit there, smiling like a child at the rear-cam.

Nobody's even close.

It's an amazing feeling, and after I'm done basking in it, I feel like shaking Speed's hand. He's a truly impressive racer, and I'd like to tell him that. He's earned a pile of respect, in my book. I look over to where is car… was? Wait. I must've been sitting there for longer than I thought! I start rolling to the garage, to get the GT loaded up.

Whelp… this is embarrassing.


End file.
